Free Never Trust a Callboy by Birgit Kluger Page A

take place, and that I therefore don't care how Ron wants his living room to look.
    As so often she burst in unannounced. With several of the inevitable swatches in hand.
    "Black and chrome," I answer stubbornly. Serves Ron right if he has to live with this arrangement. My mother sighs. She knows me well enough to know that she cannot change my mind this time.
    "I don't know what's going on with you," she says, shaking her head and muttering: "What a horrible idea."
    "If you don’t like it, you don’t need to come."
    “No. No. If you want to have silver curtains to go with this horrible combination, they should at least look good, even if that is practically impossible."
    "Perfect." Satisfied, I take a step back to consider the new curtains. I've rarely seen anything so atrocious, but for a house that Ron will be living in alone, they are perfect.
    "I think they look terrible." My mother stares at the shiny silver fabric cascading onto the floor with a deep frown.
    “No. It’s exactly what I want." With a smile I look at the front of the window. I can just picture it, a sofa made of black synthetic leather and a tasteless, gleaming coffee table. I shouldn’t be so vindictive, but I think he deserves it.
    "Would you like a glass of wine?" I ask, while my mother eyes the curtains, still with the same irritated expression. She knows that I never normally hang such a thing in my living room, perhaps she can sense something is wrong.
    "No, I have to drive. But a cup of tea would be nice."
    She follows me into the kitchen where I turn the kettle on and search the cabinets looking for Earl Grey.
    "What is going on with you and Ron? There's something wrong."
    My hand freezes in mid-air half way towards picking up the packet of tea. I should have guessed she’d work it out: nothing escapes her. I wanted to keep this piece of news to myself. I know I have to cancel the wedding as soon as possible, but I was hoping to have some time to process what has happened. It hurts to admit to the failure of our relationship. To admit that I fell for a man who didn’t really care for me at all.
    With a deep sigh I answer her question: "Ron was having an affair and I ... I’m cancelling the wedding."
    "Canceling the wedding? But you can’t do that!" Typical of my mum to latch on to the least important part of my statement.
    "So should I marry a man who is unfaithful even before the wedding?"
    "No, honey, I didn't mean that. But... are you sure? You may have been mistaken. What did Ron say to your allegations?"
    "He denies everything. And Yes, I'm sure."
    "Have you caught him in flagrante delicto?"
    "No, but..."
    "You see. If you haven't seen with your own eyes that he’s been led astray, you can’t be sure whether it’s true or not."
    "Mother. I found a hotel bill, which was issued to Mr. and Mrs. Krämer. For the period he was supposedly in Brussels. I also saw him in front of the hotel with this woman, and why do you think Ron is innocent?"
    "This has to be a misunderstanding. Believe me."
    Disappointed, I shake my head. “No. There is no other explanation."
    "And because of a vague hunch you want to cancel? What will people think if you call it off so shortly before the wedding? What should I say to our friends? You’re putting me in an impossible situation. This is a scandal!"
    "Yes, and...? What do I care what people think? Should I just marry Ron? Do you really think that?"
    "I think you should start to behave like a grown up, and to take responsibility for your actions."
    "My actions? Ron is the one that cheated, not me!" The last words come out in a roar. I can't believe that she’s taking Ron’s side. The heartless, devious, wicked liar.
    "Don’t speak to me like that Tamara. If you’re going to use that tone I won't talk to you anymore."
    The door falls shut with a loud bang as my mother leaves the House. Trembling, I sink down onto a chair. Her behavior hurts me almost more than Ron's infidelity. At least there’s a